I went to a funeral this past week of an old friend from high school.  She was 41 years old, just a few months older than me.  We hadn’t spoken in years, for no other reason other than we just lost touch.  But when I learned of her passing, I felt compelled to go.

The very first funeral I ever attended was my brother’s – I was so consumed with grief,  all I could think about, was I good sister? …  Last year, a funeral of a family friend (close in age to my father), left me thinking, am I good daughter?  And now, at the same cemetery where Ron is buried, all I could think of is, am I good person?

As I listened to all the beautiful words spoken and stories shared about my old friend Jenn, I was overcome with a feeling of loss for her and wonder for myself.  I couldn’t stop thinking about my own mortality and ultimately, my legacy.

I looked around the room and wondered who would come to my funeral?  How would people know?  Would they feel obligated to attend?   I watched Jenn’s close friends stand behind the pulpit, emoting grief, laughter, love and thought, who would speak on my behalf?  Would they know how much they mean to me?  Listening to Jenn’s mom speak of their unbreakable bond, I wondered about my Dad.  Having seen him bury one child, I know the pain he carries with him – would he be able to survive another?  Would he know the gratitude, respect and admiration I feel towards him?  And then of course, I think about my son.  Would he know the love I have for him, knows no bounds?  Would he forget me?  Will he be OK?  The thought of not seeing him grow up, devastated me.  The thought of him in pain ….

I realize it sounds a little selfish (and perhaps morbid) to be thinking of your own impending death, while honoring the life of someone else … but I was so moved by the imprint that Jenn left with her family and friends, I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of impact would I leave behind?

I didn’t rush home and make a ton of calls to say “I love you”, I didn’t immediately run to a homeless shelter and donate my time in an effort to make sure my karma was in good standing; but I did take pause.

For good or bad, because my brother was killed so young, I live my life as much as I can in the present.  Day to-day.  I’m constantly taking inventory of my life.  It’s  important to me that I’m doing what I can to make a difference within myself, my family, my friends and my community.  So I always ask myself those hard questions:  Am I living out my potential?  Am I living my legacy?  Sometimes the answers are hard to face.

The last few days I was focused on the “what ifs” and “if only’s” – but today, I am choosing to focus on the “am”.

I am confident that my legacy would be one of love, compassion, honor and integrity.  I have no idea who would prepare a speech on my behalf, but I do know that I have amazing people in my life that love me dearly and who know the role they play in my world.  I know I am a loyal friend, a loving daughter, a good sister, a great mom and a passionate advocate for my “neighbors”.  I live my life with purpose, I make mistakes, I do nutty things, I am wrought with shortcomings, I am a work in progress, I am a good human and I am always striving to be better.

Thank You Jenn for helping me remember my legacy.  You will be missed.

What will your legacy be?